


Refraction

by HappyFuseli



Series: HEU (Hannibal Extended Universe) Poems [5]
Category: Die Tür | The Door (2009), Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Extended Universe - Fandom, The Path (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hugh Dancy/Mads Mikkelsen Character Combinations, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyFuseli/pseuds/HappyFuseli
Summary: A poem for Cal Roberts (The Path, TV) and David Andernach (The Door, 2009). This one was very difficult to write and I'm not especially proud of it. The premise is pretty simple. I just imagined Cal, who, during an intake session with David, experiences a renaissance of faith after listening to his incredible story. The 6th stanza is a line taken directly from Season 3, Ep. 2 of Hannibal. I just thought it particularly fitting.I'd also like to note that this entire poem was composed over the course of two evenings while listening to Lyra Pramuk's album, Fountain.HEU Poems: Part Five
Relationships: David Andernach/Cal Roberts
Series: HEU (Hannibal Extended Universe) Poems [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066529
Kudos: 5





	Refraction

Sullen and restrictive,

he sets teeth together

so the breath comes

and goes

through his nostrils.

“Go deeper,” I say.

So he closes his eyes,

sinks,

and the bosomy land

plumes and recedes

in degrees of black and green.

Under, he goes—

subterranean.

He travels it hard

and she’s caught,

behind his eyelids,

on the bottom of the pool.

Tiny body

drowned and dashed,

heavy

like an ocean liner.

He is always there,

suspended in the water,

settling in the bottom over time

like river silt,

pre-birth in amniotic fluid.

And everything that can happen,

happens.

It has to end well

and it has to end badly.

It has to end

every way it can.

He turns,

watching me

watching him,

waiting on my pages, hovering

like an exuberant child

in an inch of sand.

I scan over my notes,

see his mouth, skin and vitals,

the living and the dead.

Then, in a rush of faith,

I swell with light

as though I’ve torn

and swallowed

the paper he’s written on.

Because when he’s in my works,

when he _is_ my work,

I no longer care

about my own trembling hands,

and the small, terrified boy,

screaming in terror

or pleasure.

The hairs on his arms

on end,

desperate to

awaken.

I am drawn in now,

not having

the good sense

to draw back,

but letting the lines

be drawn in bond.

At times we are

suspended

in pools of water

deeper than

the rush of love,

and when

we’re too deeply drawn,

whatever lines

define

a pair,

are thinner

by the minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave me a comment to request a poem about/for a specific ship. I'm up to the challenge, so if you would like to see a less obvious pairing (or even something outside of the HEU), let me know.


End file.
